


Wildfire

by princessofpoldark



Category: Reign
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofpoldark/pseuds/princessofpoldark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during 1x04 , had Mary and Francis given into their desire by the lake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

> Just shameless Smut tbh, because these two have insane sexual chemistry! 
> 
> I wrote this all fairly quickly and without a beta so be prepared for some grammatical mistakes, sorry!

  
  


In all the years she had imagined _being_ with Francis, all of those girlhood fantasies and daydreams during prayers, she had never, ever imagined that it would feel so natural and right.

 

She had always been self conscious, constantly aware of her duties and position. She was never allowed to relax and let go of the burdens of her nation. Everything was a performance for a Queen. But when he kissed her she clung to him on instinct. She knew when to turn and lift her head when he trailed his kisses down her throat. She knew how to tugged gently at the hair on his nape and make him groan. No thinking, no negotiations just their mouths moving together until their breaths merged and their bodies grew hot .

 

She felt intoxicated by him, by his hair brushing against her skin and his hands weaving their way around her waist. She loved hearing his soft sighs and murmurs of “Mary”, she longed to draw them out of him forever. So she shifted closer, brought the mouths together more forcefully and whispered back ; “Oh Francis… please”. And she’d known what she wanted without thinking and without hesitation. This was what she’d been waiting for her whole life, to feel loved and whole with him.

 

And when their eyes met a moment later, there was an intensity and depth that caught her by surprise. She thought he might be about to protest and clutched him closer but he grinned at her, with a smile she’d seen a thousand times since childhood, reassuring and gentle and she couldn’t help but smile back up at the man she had always adored.

 

His eyes dipped to her mouth gazing at it almost in amazement before dipping down to give her a soft, sweet peck, “Mary. Remember when we played King Arthur?”

 

“Yes.” Mary whispered, startled at the change of topic.

 

“And you stabbed me with-”

 

“-I did not stab you, it was an accident!” she couldn’t help the indigent retaliation she’s been yelling at him for a decade.

 

“Well while I was bleeding out-”

 

She laughed, “- You're melodrama! It was just a scratch!”

 

“-That’s not what I remember, anyway you offered to kiss it better.”

 

She rolled her eyes and nodded, “I remember.”

 

“I wish to god I’d taken you up on that offer” he said looking down at her, a small smile playing on his lips as he twirled one of her curls.

 

“You said you’d rather kiss a toad! A hairy one!”

 

His smile grew, “I had my fingers crossed.”

 

Mary gasped, “You were a little terror! And to think, everyone thought you were such a sweet boy.”

 

“Yes, well you knew better.”

 

“I did. I do” She planted a kiss on his adams apple. “You’re not sweet.”

 

His eyes grew darker and lust filled and his voice husky as he breathed into her ear. “No, not sweet.”

 

Her breath hitched as she felt his hands move swiftly down her leg, and yanked up the soft silk draped between them. His fingertips trailed up the bare skin of her thigh ever so lightly, leaving just goosebumps in his wake. She shuddered. Her eyes drifting shut, overwhelmed and shaky as he brushed against her moist, intimate center.

 

His mouth found hers again, tugging on her lower lip with his teeth, his fingers plunging into her slowly, producing a loud groan from Mary.

 

His fingers moved slowly but hard against her. She writhed against him, hissing out, pleading for more, faster, harder. Her body tensed as she grew closer and closer. His other hand drifted to her breasts and kneaded them through the thin material of her dress, plucking at her nippels, muffling the sounds of her moans with his mouth.

 

“Oh Christ.”she cried against him, her hands, previously gripping the blanket clambered for his face, reigning kisses on his lower lip as she came. His head rested against hers, watching her breathing slow.

 

“Mary...” his voice sounded ominous so she choose to ignore him, moving swiftly from beneath him and pinning him to the ground, her legs straddling his hips. From her new vantage point she could feel how hard he was and ground against him producing a gluttonous groan from him.

 

“Don’t tell me to stop.” she warns him, pulling at the straps of her dress and lifting it above her head, leaving her in her sheer shift.

 

Francis’ hands seem to move of their own accord, roaming along her spine, her hips, her tummy and again to her breasts tweaking her nipple hard enough to cause her to grind against his hardness again. “Fuck. Mary I don’t think I can stop.”

 

“Good.” She leaned into him again, undressing him until he is shirtless, caressing the bear skin she has never ever seen before, giving him soft kisses all down his stomach and pausing nervously when she reached his breeches.

 

Her eyes flickered up to his, her nervousness reflected in his expression.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

She tried not to think about Thomas, or Scotland or anything else as she replies, “Certain.”

She smiled hesitantly.

 

He kissed the top of her head and quickly unfastened the laces of his trousers as she watched him. She had never seen a naked man before, although her ladies had spread a lot of gossip she wasn’t quite prepared for the sight before her and couldn’t help the small giggle bubbling up inside her.

 

Francis flug his trousers towards the pile of clothes they had amassed and shot her a faux stern look, “Not quite the reaction I was looking for.”

 

Mary laughed in earnest, laying out across the blanket as she clutched her stomach.

 

“I’m..” giggle. “So…” giggle. “Sorry.” She gasped for breath, “I think,” giggle. “I’m just nervous.”

 

Francis shrugged at her with a smirk, lay down beside her and wraps them both up in the blanket. Their bodies brushed up against each other in a warm embrace and for the first time they could feel the sensation of their skin against each other. When Mary finally stoped  giggling he laid a small, tender kiss on her collar bone.

 

“You get a line right here,” he places a finger between her brows. “When you laugh.” Then kisses it.

 

“Oh great, laughter lines.” She couldn't help the dopy lovesick grin on her face anymore, just so happy around him. “Would you still kiss them when we’re old and gray?”

 

He looked admonished, “Of course!”

 

“With all those young, pretty courtiers fluttering around the King?” she teased .

 

“Well… I can kiss you both can’t I.” He grinned mischievously, receiving a shove for his troubles.

 

“Its a good thing im off to Portugal then.” She tried to be light hearted and irreverent about it but a lump formed in her throat and an anger burned through her chest.

 

Because after all, Francis was the man she wanted. He was all she had ever known, all she had ever loved. And she resented having to say goodbye.

 

And then they were kissing again, blistering and hard.

 

Their bodies pressed together, his hands wrapped around her hips, hoisting her up on to him. Positioning himself at her opening. His eyes seared on to hers as she tried to calm her breathing and prepare herself. And then he entered her.

 

“Francis!” she cried out, mostly in shock , clinging to him. And he grasped her face lovingly.

 

“Shhh, its ok Mary. That’s the worst of it.”

 

She nodded. She was starting to get used to the sensation and wiggled trying to get some sort of friction back.

 

His hands left her face and came to grip her backside, rocking her slowly on to him. And through the dull ache she could feel the pleasure, she could feel his breath on her cheek, his heat against her own burning skin and it felt primal and sinful and wonderful.

 

They started to pick up a rhythm, their hips moving as one. His head leaned down and suckled her breast and she groaned feverishly. Everything felt so good now, all she can do was chase that building tension in her core, harder and faster against Francis.

 

His hands drifted over her backside and between them, finding her clit and circling it expertly, the sensation was too much to bear and Mary shuddered, cried out his name and started moving furiously. This was it.

 

She screamed, Francis tries to muffle the sound with a kiss but the sensation of her clenching around him was just too much for him and he ended up crying out himself. They both shudder and grasp for each other, fingers digging into naked shoulder blades as they gasp for breath.

 

Now that it was over they clung to each other.

 

“Francis?” she whispered into his shoulder.

 

“Yes.” his voice sounding shaky.

 

“Is it always like that?”

 

He lifted her face and held her gaze. “No Mary. It’s never been like that.”

 


End file.
